


Loki Gets What He Needs

by auntieomega



Series: A Marvelish Romance [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Angst and Humor, Belly Rubs, Daddy Issues, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Slash, Medical Kink, Rimming, Shower Sex, Sick Loki, Urination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 01:24:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3877051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auntieomega/pseuds/auntieomega
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Loki accepts a deal to trade his prison sentence in Asgard for rehabilitation, he discovers the strongest prisons are the ones we create ourselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loki Gets What He Needs

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published 08-25-13 and deleted 04-25-15. Reposting because IceNChrome made me realize I'm a massive dork, but did so in a gentle, diplomatic way worthy of my Bruce Banner.

  


Loki touched the window pane tentatively. It seemed to be nothing but glass. He drew himself a little straighter and frowned as Bruce entered the room. Bruce smiled at him. “You can relax now, Thor’s gone.”

Loki did not relax, although the news did cheer him somewhat. Still, his predicament remained the same. He had already begun to tire of his confinement in Asgard when Thor came to him, saying one of the Avengers had offered to try to rehabilitate him. The one that could turn into the giant green beast. The thought of rehabilitation brought a smirk to his lips, but anything was preferable to solitary confinement. Or so he had thought. Now, looking around his new cell, he wasn’t so sure.

“That bad, huh?” Bruce laughed. “I’m sorry. Usually, this is my office. I know the futon is a little depressing, but that’s the closest thing I have to a spare bed right now.”

Loki ignored him. This was some sort of trick. He checked the walls for wards or force fields and found—nothing. Weary of games, he turned to the scientist and said, “You have placed me in a cell with inadequate security. Why?”

“It’s not a cell. It’s just a room in my apartment. Feel free to stalk strangely about the rest of the apartment and poke things if that helps you adapt.”

“You’re saying I could escape out that window right now?”

“You could. It wouldn’t be a fun landing. But, in theory, yes.” He smiled and sat on the futon. “In order for you to prove you’re trustworthy, I have to trust you first.”

Loki bristled. “You’ll find underestimating me to be a grave mistake. One you’ll not live long to regret.”

“Technically, I don’t think I’m underestimating you. But if you mean I’m underestimating your desire to escape, I think you’re wrong.” Bruce set the linens he had been holding beside him on the futon. “I think you’ll stay here because part of you wants this. I also think you’ll stay because the rest of you knows the only way you’ll make it on the outside is by summoning some sad army of hairdressers or dachshunds or something, and then the Avengers will find you, and Thor will drag you back to Asgard by the scruff of your neck. You’ll be right back where you were, but your sentence will be doubled.”

A small, sick feeling twisted through Loki’s stomach. He wanted to reply, but found he could not. Instead he just stood there, staring, trying to look menacing to a man who didn’t seem menaced by him. And then Loki’s attention focused on the scientist’s eyes. What he saw there surprised him more than the lax security.

Throughout Loki’s life people had ignored him or looked at him with disdain. People tolerated him; people feared him; people hated him. No one had ever looked at him with such sincerity, with such reverence. Some small, shameful voice whispered from his depths, I’ll stay as long as he continues to look at me like that.

“Maybe you’ll stay as a favor to me,” said Bruce. “I’ve been fascinated by you from the moment I first saw you. The others think I’m crazy, your brother included, but I see something when I look into your eyes. Something accessible, something fragile and good. Stay so we can prove the others wrong. Stay so we can hand Thor his ass.”

Loki laughed weakly, backed into the desk, and sat on top of it. Something fragile and good… What a strange thing to say? His head almost spun. “I do like the idea of…handing Thor his ass.”

A beeping noise issued from somewhere else in the apartment. Bruce leapt up. “My muffins are ready. Do you like blueberries?”

***

He had been with Bruce almost two weeks when he decided to escape. He waited until Bruce had left for work, then opened the door and walked to the elevator. It was a small act, but it thrilled him. He was free. In moments, he was stepping onto the sidewalk and into a world of damp asphalt, great buildings, loud cars, and bustling people. The odors of exhaust and urine enveloped him.

His long black coat was too heavy for the late spring day. Somehow, it had seemed cooler in the apartment. He contemplated taking it off and carrying it as he walked to the end of the block. There, he stopped, staring at the intersection. People swirled around him. He couldn’t move. Something held him in its grasp, and all he could do was stand, frozen, and breathe. Finally, he stepped away, and paused against a building. He had no allies here. This world was populated with nothing but strangers and enemies.

So he would forge new alliances; he had in the past, but--- Bruce claimed to be on his side. Surely that was a fiction. ‘Something fragile and good.’ That was insulting. And yet, when he had said it, Bruce had looked at him with some emotion Loki couldn’t quite place, something quiet and forgiving—like morning sunlight. Something that had shaken him to his core.

Loki moved off the wall to begin his journey anew, but then he turned around. He wasn’t returning to the apartment out of fear or anxiety. No. He was returning to plot and prepare a remarkable, brilliant escape befitting a prince of Asgard… And Bruce had made cranberry orange muffins with oat bran and whole wheat, and in half an hour ‘Project Runway’ came on. There was a ‘Hoarders’ marathon afterward, and if that became boring, Netflix was filled with a million wonders.

***

“Loki. What did you do to my miniature zen garden?”

Loki recognized the strained quality in Bruce’s voice. It was the same way he had sounded when Loki cut all of the flowers off the orchids in the window and put them in a vase to brighten up the breakfast bar. The same way as when Loki had used Bruce’s razor to tidy his pubic hair. It would probably be the same voice he would use if he knew Loki had peed on his toothbrush.

Loki settled onto a barstool at the breakfast bar and pointed to the thing at its center. “You mean this pitiful tray of rocks and sand?”

“Yes.”

“I saw that you were drawing designs in the sand, so I improved it. And I rearranged those rocks.”

Bruce flicked a tiny rake at him. “You’re supposed to make ripples with this.”

“My design is superior to ripples.”

Leaning closer to inspect the sand, Bruce said, “I can’t tell what that’s supposed to be.”

“It’s my name,” said Loki. “In runes. And I did it with my glorious finger, so that’s far better than a rake.”

Bruce looked at him strangely and took the tray into his bedroom.

***

Loki allowed himself to slip into a routine. Mornings began early and started with a series of stretching movements called yoga. The most exciting part of that was watching Bruce. He was stronger and more flexible than Loki would have thought. It was during yoga that Loki first wondered what fucking Bruce would be like. As soon as he thought that, he wondered if Bruce wanted to fuck him. From that moment on, he tried to make all of his downward dogs as seductive as possible. Bruce didn’t seem to notice. Loki thought he was the most unobservant gay scientist ever.

Yoga was followed by meditation, which involved trying to clear one’s mind and find one’s center. At this, Loki excelled, because it was very like the grounding one did before magic. Sometimes however, he just thought about fucking. After that came breakfast, which consisted of brewing coffee and doing various things with tofu and different bread products. Sometimes they had horse meal called cereal with soy milk and fruit. Other times they had drinks called smoothies, which Loki enjoyed a great deal.

When Bruce couldn’t work from home, Loki was left with the television to learn idioms and American culture, and this was the highlight of his day. The television was a rectangular gazing sphere, full of light and magic and energy. He would have watched it constantly, without food or drink, if Bruce had let him. Bruce provided him with books as well, but they didn’t draw him in the way the TV did.

TV taught him all kinds of fun ways to use ‘fuck’. He learned other important words, phrases and concepts. The DVR stored shows that Bruce recorded for him. Most of these were boring. Loki soon learned how to record shows himself and recorded all kinds of wonderful things.

Evenings began with weightlifting, alternating showers, then elaborate meal preparation, dining, talking, and bed. If Bruce was tired, they watched a documentary or a movie.

Loki preferred the movies, but this night Bruce insisted on a documentary. “’Baraka’,” Loki frowned. “It’s political?” He hated American politics. It was so loud and petty. All of the noise could easily be solved by someone simply taking over the country. Someone smart and sexy with beautiful blue green eyes and a breathtaking smile…

“No, it’s about human life,” Bruce told him.

Loki didn’t feel up to feigning interest. He sighed at his popcorn and contemplated throwing some at Bruce. Stupid Bruce. Why hadn’t they had sex yet? Loki knew he was irresistible. They should have fucked each other silly by now. Was it possible that Bruce found him unattractive? That couldn’t be right. Loki was soooo attractive. Any one would want him. Anyone but stupid Bruce. Obviously, something was wrong with him.

“They have medicine for ED.”

“What?”

“If you have ED,” said Loki, munching popcorn. “I know you don’t like to watch commercials, so I thought you might have missed it.”

Bruce laughed. “I most certainly do NOT have ED. But thank you for your concern.”

“What about low testosterone? They---”

“Loki, I’m fine. What’s with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me.” Sulking, he ate his popcorn and watched stupid Bruce’s stupid documentary. Despite his resistance to it, Loki soon found himself absorbed in it. There were no words—just music, just people from different cultures chanting, dancing, children picking through hills of garbage to haunting music, visuals beautiful and horrible. The imagery and music flooded his senses and pulled from him feelings he couldn’t name. The air in his lungs became heavy and damp. He pulled his knees to his chest, feeling the need to huddle. When it was over, his tears threatened to break free. He hid his face behind his knees.

“Loki?” Bruce touched his shoulder gently. “Loki, don’t be embarrassed. I’m touched every time I see this. I was hoping you would be moved by it, too.”

“Something’s wrong with me,” he said raggedly. “Nothing’s wrong with you, so something’s wrong with me. I’ve felt it before now, but---” He managed to stop himself before he said anything more appalling.

Bruce’s hand rubbed up and down Loki’s arm. “Nothing’s wrong with you. You’re exactly who you’re supposed to be at this place in time. Some of your actions might be questionable, but there’s nothing wrong with you, Loki.”

Loki trembled with a sense of mystified awe and withdrew from the touch he had craved only moments before. He regarded the scientist as he might the green beast, leaving the couch while keeping his gaze fixed and wary. Licking his lips, he retreated to his room.

***

And then they began going out. They started with Central Park. After that, every weekend they went somewhere---the Museum of Modern Art, the New York Botanical Garden, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the New York Aquarium, bars, restaurants, everywhere. They walked; they took the rail; they took the subway; they took cabs. And they walked. And walked. And walked.

Loki loved every minute of it. He forgot he was supposed to be working on a brilliant plan to escape. He even forgot to look for ways to conquer the city. Instead, the city claimed his heart.

No matter how much he enjoyed their outings, however, he still couldn’t understand Bruce’s distance. Loki’s yearnings had edged somewhere uncomfortably beyond sex, and he was unable to make sense of them. Worse, the intensity of his desire rendered him mute. If he confessed anything now and was rejected… The possibility was too terrible to contemplate.

His need began to fester, and when the opportunity to dig at Bruce presented itself, he couldn’t help but take it.

One hot summer Saturday, while he and Bruce were out, Loki decided he wanted to try one of the long meat things a man was selling out of a little cart. He was hungry, but he also liked the idea that this might upset Bruce. “I’m sick of all of your vegetarian rubbish. I want one of those, whatever those are.” He pointed to the vendor’s cart.

“I’m fine with getting you some meat. But why don’t we get you some good meat. A steak or something? Hotdogs are made from vaginas and floor scrapings.”

Bruce’s disapproval of hotdogs made Loki want one more. “I don’t want a steak. I WANT a hotdog.”

“Loki. Some of these street vendors are fine, but it’s really better to get something from a restaurant---”

“I WANT a hotdog!”

“What the fuck, Loki? Fine. Order.”

Victorious, Loki strode to the cart. “I want a hotdog. With extra vaginas and floor scrapings.”

Bruce looked vaguely mortified as he paid the vendor. Loki couldn’t have been happier. When he had his hotdog, he kept trying to get in Bruce’s face, hoping to make him squirm.

“Stop playing with it and eat it,” Bruce said in a quiet, firm tone.

Loki glared at him and stuffed the rest of the hotdog in his mouth. “I’m still hungry. I want another one.” A phrase from a recent conversation flashed in his mind. “I’m following my bliss.”

“Hotdogs are not bliss. Hotdogs are disgusting.” He sighed, glancing at the vendor over his shoulder. “And these carts aren’t always safe. You’re taking a risk---”

“I’m adventurous. You’re boring. Boring Bruce Boring Banner.”

Bruce contemplated him for a minute, then handed him some cash. “Whatever makes you happy.”

***

They were on either end of the couch watching a documentary called “Koyaanisqaatsi” when the uncomfortable pressure Loki had been feeling in his stomach turned into an actual ache. A sharp, almost crushing ache. He tried to act casual as he laced his arms across his stomach, but the movement drew Bruce’s attention.

“Is your stomach hurting?”

“Some.” A sharp pain stole his breath.

“Yeah. You’ve been really quiet for a while.” He stood and walked away.

Loki only thought about Bruce for a second. The pain in his stomach obliterated all other thoughts. It unfolded within him like a flower made of glass shards.

Bruce returned with a small, lined trash can and sat it next to Loki’s legs. Loki flashed Bruce a disgruntled look. “And how is that supposed to help exactly?”

“If you have what I think you do, you’re going to need it.” He knelt before Loki. “Let me examine you so I can make sure this isn’t something else.” With a grimace and a measure of reluctance, Loki allowed it. Bruce’s hands moved all over Loki’s aching belly. “Lie flat,” he said gently, easing Loki into the position. After carefully palpitating Loki’s abdomen, Bruce pressed and quickly released on the right side of Loki’s belly. He heaved a sigh, then began rubbing Loki’s stomach in gentle circles.

“You’re not a healer! You’ve done nothing to remedy this. It still hurts,” Loki admonished him.

“I’m sure it does.” There was no mocking edge to Bruce’s tone. Instead, it was hung with sympathy and a trace of sadness. “I was just making sure your appendix was okay.”

Bruce’s fingers brushed Loki’s side and it occurred to him that while they had been talking, Bruce had been rubbing his belly. The idea filled Loki with a flutter of pleasure, but he was in too much pain to truly enjoy it. “Do you have any medicine?” he asked.

“No. Unfortunately food poisoning needs to run its course. It’s best to let your body eliminate the toxins naturally.”

“Food poisoning? You let me be poisoned?”

“It could have happened anywhere, but those hotdogs seem the most likely culprit.”

Bruce’s betrayal hurt Loki as much as the stomach ache. “You never said anything about poison.”

“I should have been clearer.”

“You did this to me.” Tears stung Loki’s eyes. He pushed Bruce’s hand away and sat up, cringing at the stabbing pain the movement caused. “You said you were on my side. But you let this happen.”

“You wanted what you wanted, and you weren’t listening to me. And I didn’t know for certain that the hotdogs were tainted.” He crept up on the couch beside Loki. “I’m so, so sorry that you feel betrayed. And I’m very sorry this happened to you. Let me rub your stomach. Let me help you.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Loki relented. He closed his eyes, but Bruce’s hand soothed away only a little of the pain. And then a wave of nausea rippled through him. He sat up straighter. “Oh.”

He vomited into the garbage can Bruce held in front of him. And then he was clutching its rim tightly while Bruce held his hair back. They repeated this until Loki was completely exhausted and quite certain he had thrown up not only everything he had eaten that day but also every organ he owned and all of his toenails.

Loki fell back onto the couch in a miserable heap. Bruce abandoned him to do something in the kitchen. When Bruce returned, he handed Loki a cup of something warm and placed an ice pack against his stomach. “That’s chamomile tea. It’s soothing,” he said.

Loki took an experimental sip. “It’s not poisoned, is it?”

Bruce sighed and stroked Loki’s temple with his knuckles. “Loki, I would never intentionally hurt you. I…like you so much. I love going places with you. You cast a whole new light on things I’ve seen for years. Like the buskers. I never really noticed them. But you were so enchanted with them. Wanting to talk to them. Giving them all of my money. You make everything seem somehow more intense, more real.” He snorted. “You’re not even listening to me are you?”

“Blah, blah, blah, buskers.” Loki found it difficult to concentrate on Bruce’s nonsense with his stomach achily gurgling and nausea clinging to every inch of his skin. However, when Bruce began to withdraw, Loki caught his hand. He drug Bruce’s fingers back to his forehead. “Keep doing that.” He added, “Please,” remembering how much Bruce liked the word. He leaned his head against Bruce’s shoulder.

They stayed like that for a long time. The fingers caressing his face and fondling his hair felt so soothing and wonderful that he began drifting into sleep, his stomach waking him periodically with a sharp pain. And then a mass of cramps in his lower abdomen brought him fully awake. He shuddered. “Fuck.” He sprang up and dashed for the toilet.

Nothing but soup squirted out of his ass. A hideous, unbelievable amount of noxious soup. The foulness of it sickened him. He began to vomit, but the garbage can was out of his reach, and he couldn’t leave the toilet. He covered his mouth to hold it in, but it came anyway. Violently. Cringing on the toilet, he spewed from each end.

And then the garbage can magically appeared in front of him. With Bruce’s hand attached. The other hand twisted in his hair. “GET OUT!” Loki cried. “DON’T. FUCKING. TOUCH. ME! GET---” He retched again. More soup followed. He had never felt so humiliated.

“It’s okay,” Bruce said in an annoyingly soothing voice. “I’ve treated leprosy and Guinea worms. All kinds of things. This doesn’t bother me.”

“It bothers me.” Loki was almost in tears. “Thank you for the garbage can. Now, please leave me alone.”

Bruce retreated. “Don’t worry about this.” He pointed to the puddle of vomit on the tile. “I’ll take care of it after you’re finished.”

Once Loki was done with the bathroom, he curled into the corner of the couch and hid his face in its arm. He couldn’t make eye contact with Bruce. He never wanted to see the man again. Fortunately, Bruce disappeared to clean the bathroom. Unfortunately, he returned some time later.

He thrust a glass in the part of Loki’s face not mushed into the couch. “You need to drink some water.”

“I hate you,” Loki told him weakly.

“I’m sorry. Drink the water.”

Loki didn’t want to obey, but for some reason, he did. He could only manage a few sips, however, before he hung his head and began to cry. “I so fucking hate you.”

“I know,” said Bruce, sitting on the couch. “Come rest against me, and I’ll rub your belly.”

Loki glowered at him for a moment, then shifted over to lay his head on Bruce’s shoulder. “Breathe a word of this to anyone, and I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

Loki expected him to bristle and brag about his capabilities. Instead, Bruce continued the gentle rubbing and said softly, “Poor Loki.” Although this could have sounded mocking or condescending, it didn’t. It was the most beautiful phrase Loki had ever heard. There was so much love in it, so much kindness. It was an audible hug.

Bruce asked him if he wanted to watch TV. Loki refused. Bruce asked if Loki wanted to read. Loki refused. Much to Loki’s dismay, Bruce left. He soon returned, however, with a thin, battered book. “What’s that?” Loki asked.

“The Happy Prince and Other Tales, by Oscar Wilde.”

“It looks like shit.”

“I’ve had it since I was a kid.”

Loki sniffed at him. “You’re a level one hoarder.”

“I hate that you’re watching so much TV. My apartment is clean and organized. I have some old things, but that doesn’t make me a hoarder.”

“That’s what hoarders say.”

Bruce drew a long, deep breath. “I can’t do anything else to make you feel better, so I’m going to read to you.”

Loki had no problem with that, so he snuggled a little closer and listened quietly as Bruce read ‘The Happy Prince.’ The title suggested it was a happy story, but it was distressingly sad. “The swallow should have flown away,” he told Bruce. He now had his head in Bruce’s lap.

“But it loved the statue of the prince, so it stayed to help him. The story is about love and sacrifice and trying to end human suffering. It’s a beautiful fable.”

“I hated the ending.”

“But they go to heaven.” He sat the book down and looked at Loki. “You’re nowhere near falling asleep, are you?”

“No… Maybe you could sing to me?”

“What?”

Loki found his astonishment insulting. “I hear you in the shower all the time. You have a nice voice.”

“You can hear me?” Bruce asked sheepishly.

“Our neighbors probably hear you.”

Bruce looked at him with a strange, touched expression. “Our neighbors…”

“So? Sing something.”

“I don’t know.”

“Sing the whiskers on kittens song from ‘The Sound of Music’. ”

“I think it’s called ‘My Favorite Things’. Loki--- Never mind. I can never guess the things you’ll like.” He paused. “I don’t know the lyrics to that song.”

“I do,” said Loki. In a soft, clear voice he began. “Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens…” Bruce joined in, but dropped out sometimes to follow Loki. In this way, they sang a somewhat ragged, subdued version of the song. “Now you need to sing that shower song that goes ‘See, the life I’ve had / Can make a good man bad.’”

“You should really be singing to me.”

Loki frowned at him. “I’m sick.”

“I think its ‘Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want,’ by the Smiths. Oh, Loki. A song about wanting.” Bruce sighed. “The root of all suffering is desire.”

“You’re the one singing it in the shower over and over.”

“It’s fun to sing.”

“Just fucking sing it. Please.” Loki sighed happily when he began. Bruce sang in a voice barely above a whisper, his fingers stroking the path of Loki’s hairline as it circled his ear. Loki closed his eyes, his head filled with darkness and song.

***

Loki woke to morning sunlight. For a moment, he was surprised by his surroundings, but memory returned quickly. Bruce was asleep, leaning slightly off kilter. Loki still had his head in Bruce’s lap. Loki healed himself to banish his soreness and what was left of his illness. Then he nestled happily against Bruce. He burrowed his nose into Bruce’s pants, snuffing deeply. He smelled lavender laundry detergent and a lovely, clean scent that seemed to be Bruce himself.

Loki basked in the light and the warmth. His feelings were jumbled and unfamiliar, but they were pleasant all the same. Waking up with Bruce, touching Bruce, being touched by Bruce. All of it felt so right. This must be what normal people feel like, he thought; this is what it must feel like to be happy.

He wanted Bruce to wake up and share in the glory of his new-found rightness. He started by whispering his name, then quickly escalated to barking it while poking him. Bruce finally woke, scrubbing a hand across his face. Loki grinned at him. “You’re awake! Good morning! After yoga, can I help you make breakfast?”

Bruce stared at him blearily. “Skip yoga. Go take a shower, brush your teeth. Get yourself feeling normal.”

“You won’t need help?”

“You never help me. Why should today be any different?”

Somewhat crestfallen, Loki followed Bruce’s suggestions. And being clean did make him feel even better. He pounced on the bar stool where he usually sat and leaned over the breakfast bar. “Are you making tofu scramble? Are you going to finish it with nutritional yeast? I love nutritional yeast!”

“I thought that would be a little advanced for your stomach.” Bruce placed a bowl of oatmeal in front of Loki.

Loki scowled at it. “I don’t like oatmeal.”

“Oatmeal is gentle. You need to take it easy today.”

“No, I don’t. I healed myself this morning. I’m great.”

Bruce, who had been busy at the stove, turned around to face him. “You can heal yourself?”

Loki preened. “I’m a sorcerer, remember? A highly skilled one at that. I can do all kinds of things.”

“Why didn’t you heal yourself last night?” A distinctly annoyed tone had slipped into Bruce’s usually calm voice.

And, motivated by a burst of unfettered affection, Loki revealed to Bruce, a mere mortal, a bit of information known to very few. It was a gift. A disarmament. A symbol of new-found trust. “I can heal myself, but I can’t if I’m in too much pain.”

Bruce turned back to the stove with a snort. “That’s a tragic flaw, isn’t it? I mean, it doesn’t do you much good to be able to heal if you can’t do it when you’re actually hurt.”

“You can’t heal yourself at all!” Loki snarled at his back. “Your only power is turning into a giant green asshole with bad pants. You’re as much of a mindless douche as Thor and at least he has a magical hammer. You---”

“As much fun as this is, Loki, I have to go to work. And I have a headache from getting less than two hours of sleep. Can you tell me how inadequate you think I am later?” He turned off the stove and plated the food while Loki fumed. He turned suddenly. “Can you heal other people?”

“No---”

Bruce laughed, but it was devoid of mirth. “Of course you can’t. I don’t know why I even bothered asking.”

“If I could, I---”

“That would probably involve having to think about other people.”

Ceramic clicked against the granite. Loki barely noticed it. He could focus only on Bruce’s evil, sleepy face. He trembled with rage and anguish. “Fuck you, Bruce. You don’t know half the shit you think you know. And you know absolutely nothing about me.” He could feel tears gathering in his eyes. His face burned as if aflame. “The way you treat me is inexcusable. I am not some wayward teenager. I am a god. At least in Asgard I would have had an honest sentence and an honest cell. Here--- I’m only here so you can try to prove your bullshit ideas work. You don’t care about me at all.”

“Loki,” Bruce said gently. “I have to get ready for work. We’ll talk about this later.” He disappeared into his room.

Sniffling, Loki bowed his head, self conscious about his tears even though he was alone. The bowl of oatmeal had been replaced by a plate of tofu scramble sprinkled liberally with nutritional yeast. He buried his face in his hands and began to sob.

***

Bruce sat on a bench outside with his phone. Tony’s voice had a playfully stern edge to it. “You’re not calling to ask for donations for that green energy research are you?”

Bruce faced the music, sorta. “No.”

“And that would be the world weary Project Loki sigh. I told you this was a bad idea. What has he done now?”

“Last night he was sick and…” Bruce felt like complete shit. “I overstepped so many boundaries.”

“You fucked him?”

“No,” said Bruce, insulted. “He was a disgusting mess.” And then he couldn’t stop the wistfulness that crept into his voice. “But, for a while, it was like he was my disgusting mess.”

“That sounds fun.”

“After he fell asleep, I stayed awake for another hour, just watching him breathe."

Tony gave a slight groan. “Why don’t you call one of your fuckbuddies? That model you brought to the New Year’s Eve party?”

“Madison? He had the personality of a head of cabbage and the IQ of a postage stamp. Compared to---” He caught himself, but not in time.

“Loki?”

Bruce crumpled a little. “Loki’s exciting, alive---”

“Deranged, sociopathic---”

“He’s neither of those things. There’s this sweetness about him---”

“Look. Bruce. I’ll get in touch with Thor. We’ll haul his ass back to Asgard. You go back to your research. Problem solved.”

“I can’t do that to him. He’s so needy. And he’s trying. I can tell he’s trying.”

“He’s not a puppy. You can’t keep him.”

Bruce couldn’t say anything for a moment. “Sending him back to Asgard would be reprehensible. I won’t do that to him. I can control this.”

After a long silence, Tony said, “Why did you call me?”

“I guess I needed to talk to someone.”

“So, now I’m your sponsor?”

“Technically, I think you would have had to once been addicted to Loki to be my sponsor.” Long pause. “Joke.”

“I’ve never heard you so miserable. Serious.”

“I have to go. Meeting in a few minutes.”

“Hey, listen. Bruce. It’s okay to fail. No one expected this to work anyway.”

***

Bruce had promised they would talk, and they did. But nothing—as far as Loki could tell—was actually resolved. Loki held his feelings close, and Bruce didn’t seem to have any. The scientist admitted to caring for Loki, then went on some long, painful tangent on agape, and then there was some horrible drivel about flowers on a pond or a wheel or something, but Loki had stopped listening by that point, because all he could think about was strangling Bruce.

So much longing infused Loki’s fury. Some days, he could barely contain himself. Meditation and yoga helped, especially with the anger. Long masturbation sessions helped with the longing. But nothing helped completely.

Loki struggled through the days and nights, trying to pretend he didn’t care, while every hour, he cared a little more.

***

Bruce decided they should celebrate Halloween with margaritas and creamy polenta. Loki discovered he loved margaritas and drank almost the entire pitcher while Bruce finished cooking.

Tired of watching Bruce stir the pot, Loki spirited the margaritas to the cocktail table and sprawled on the couch. He felt loose-jointed and wonderful. He seemed to be viewing the world through the bottom of a glass, everything just a little warped and shiny. “Let’s eat on the couch and watch ‘Robot Chicken’.”

“I don’t think so. Do you even get the references on that show?”

“Enough of them.” He frowned. Why was Bruce trying to ruin ‘Robot Chicken’ and his splendid margarita buzz?

Bruce sat a tray with a small spinach salad and a bowl of something yellow in front of Loki. Loki stared at it in dismay. “This is porridge. I thought you said this was fun. In no universe is porridge fun. Ever.”

Bruce grinned. “Taste it. It’s cornmeal with soy cheese and sage, some basil…”

Loki dug his spoon around the bowl and sighed. “I’m a god, and you offer me porridge. I should strike you down. Put a pox on your goats. Something like that.” He tasted it. “I guess it doesn’t suck.”

“High praise from the glorious god of mischief. Does this save my goats?”

Loki scowled at his playfulness and ate a little more polenta. It was actually kind of good. “You love cooking, don’t you?”

Bruce smiled. “I do, actually. I see it as part of self-nurturing. I think we should be kind to ourselves. The way you would treat someone you love—with gentleness and understanding—that’s how you should treat yourself.”

Loki felt tears gather in his eyes and turned toward the window. Too many margaritas weren’t allowing him to mask his emotions well. He ignored Bruce’s question and refused to face him.

Stupid fucking Bruce slid closer and rested a palm against his upper arm. “Loki,” he repeated very softly, very gently, “What did I say?”

“I can’t do that,” Loki managed, hating Bruce for making him say it.

“Of course you can, and it would be very good for you. Just think of how, when you love someone, you’re able to forgive; you’re able to give the benefit of the doubt; you want them to be happy and safe; you want good things for them. It’s that simple.” His voice became softer than snow falling. “You deserve forgiveness. You deserve love.”

Loki trembled with rage. Eyes full of bitter, unshed tears, he turned on Bruce, barely suppressing the urge to strike him. “It’s not that fucking easy! Stop saying it like it’s turning on a fucking light switch. You’re such a fucking douche! You’re a fucking scat-covered dildo with flies on it!” He would have continued letting Bruce know all of the things he fucking was, but tears clogged his throat and he began choking.

Bruce sat beside him, calm as the sand in that stupid zen garden. “I’m sorry, Loki. I guess it’s not that easy. What do you think makes it difficult for you?”

Loki buried his face in his hands and moaned into them, trying to will the traitorous tears back into his skull. He sucked a huge breath. To his knees he said, “What you’re telling me to do is based on an experience I’ve never had.” He sighed, feeling oddly calmed by the admission. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone before.”

Bruce withdrew from him and bent slightly, as if trying to see his face. “Surely you’ve had relationships before? You’re very attractive…”

The flattery drew Loki like a moth to flame. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and blinked at Bruce. “Of course, I’ve had relationships. I’ve had many. And every last one of them was a hot, twisted kinkfest filled with erotic wonders you mere mortals can’t even imagine.” He deflated a little. “But there was no caring and there certainly wasn’t love. I fucked people to cause things to happen or to prevent things from happening. My relationships were like military campaigns. I engaged in them to get something I wanted.”

“And you never wanted love?”

“You know what? Fuck you! You’re sitting there in your smartass bamboo pajamas with your pretentious fucking porridge, and you’re staring at me like I’m some pathetic asshole, when really you’re the pathetic one. You talk all of this shit about love and caring and what the fuck ever, but I don’t see your ass with anybody. You just sit up here like a big, drippy bag of enlightened bullshit in your zen cave with your stupid pot of sand doing your fucking splits and shit. All alone. And if that’s where all of this love-love-care-care nonsense gets you then all I have to say is: fuck you! You’re more pathetic than I’ll ever be!”

Minutes passed as Bruce stared at him. For a moment, Loki wondered if he had broken something inside the man, rendered him silent and taken away his power to do anything other than sit there, beholding the greatness of the god of mischief. But then Bruce said quietly, “You’re right. I am more pathetic than you. Not, I believe, for any of the reasons you cited, but because you have a chance at something I can’t have. If you’ll only let go of some of your self-destructive idiocy you could be in a real relationship.” A wave of pain crossed his face. “I can’t do that. I can’t allow myself to do that. At any moment, something could happen, and I could lose my hold on the monster inside me. I could kill the person I loved.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “You’re making excuses. I’ve been here six months. You haven’t gone all big green growler with me.”

Bruce snorted. “Yeah, not that it matters. I can’t kill you.” Recognition and yearning flashed suddenly in his eyes, only to be replaced by a profound, deep sadness. He began picking up the bowls and glasses and taking them to the kitchen.

Loki poured the remainder of the margaritas down his throat, then took the pitcher to the sink. Bruce began to load the dishwasher. Loki stood beside him. “Bruce, I think I let things get out of h---”

“Don’t bother. It doesn’t matter.” He didn’t look up from his task. “I’m not sure this is working out. Maybe it’s time for you to return to Asgard.”

Fear flooded Loki. “What do you mean? Why would you say that?”

“Right, things are going so well.”

“They are. I’m learning all sorts of things. And I’m doing better. And---”

Bruce sighed wearily. “I don’t know that I can do this. That I should be doing this… I’m not sure this is right.”

Loki watched him finish the dishes, watched him wipe down the kitchen. “How dare you ignore me!” he cried suddenly.

“I’m not ignoring you,” Bruce said quietly. “I’m just not engaging you. I need to be alone for a while.”

Loki watched him disappear into his room, then retreated into his own room. He threw himself on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Asgard. The thought made his throat tighten with tears. But this was a kind of prison, too. One, in its own way, perhaps as cruel as a cell in Asgard. And in Asgard, he would be alone. Here, there was Bruce, and no matter how frustratingly stupid Bruce was…

Bruce flung the door open. “You almost had me, didn’t you? You trickster! You’re not getting out of this that easy!”

Loki wanted to laugh with relief, wanted to tell Bruce that if sent to Asgard he would fight his way back to Bruce’s side. But he said, “So, besides being boring and pathetic, you’re also clever. Good for you.”

“Good night, Loki. Pleasant dreams.” The door closed.

But Loki couldn’t sleep. He flopped around the bed, but couldn’t get comfortable. He wondered if Bruce was having trouble sleeping as well. After mulling it over for a while, he decided to check on Bruce. He found him in the dark. A husky female voice bathed the shadows in song. Bruce appeared to be sleeping. The urge to be next to him overwhelmed Loki. He slipped into bed beside the scientist, who was lying on his stomach with his head on his arms.

“Loki! What the fuck are you doing?”

“I wanted to see you.” He paused. The music was strange—happy and sad all at once. “Who are you listening to?”

“Billie Holiday.” Bruce sighed. “What are you doing here, Loki?”

I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. I wanted to see how you were. I wanted to tell you how much I--- “I’m hungry. Can you make me something to eat?”

Bruce was quiet for a long time. “I made dinner earlier. It’s not my problem if you chose not to eat it.”

“Can’t you make me something else?”

“You can make something.”

“I don’t know how. You need to get up and make something for me.”

Bruce made a strange, sort of wounded animal noise. “I can’t. I have a terrible headache. Order something from the menus in the drawer by the refrigerator.” He stretched and pulled his wallet from the nightstand. He sat up enough to fumble with the wallet for a minute, then just handed the whole thing to Loki. “Use whatever you need.”

Loki straddled Bruce’s back. “You’re very close to wearing the nearest wall,” Bruce growled. Loki pressed his thumbs into the base of Bruce’s skull, kneaded, then fanned his fingers outward. He curled his fingers around the sides of Bruce’s head. Protests and threats ceased. Only darkness and music filled the room. He massaged Bruce’s head and neck and shoulders with slow, seductive movements, allowing his hands to say what his tongue could not. After a long time, he whispered gently, “Do you feel better?”

Bruce seemed unable to answer for a moment. Finally, he said in soft voice. “Yes… That---” He exhaled deeply. “Loki…”

“Now can you get up and make me something to eat?”

Another sigh, but somehow very different than the other one. “Let me listen to this song first.”

Loki dismounted and lay next to Bruce. “What song is this?” he whispered.

“It’s called ‘Gloomy Sunday.’”

The shadows seemed to thicken. They poured over Loki’s body like midnight made of honey and seeped through his pores into his internal organs, where they lay in gelid blackness. When the song finished, Bruce turned off the stereo, but they remained still. “So it wasn’t real?” Loki asked. “Her lover didn’t die?”

“Not according to the last stanza.”

“But she was going to kill herself. Why? Your lives are so short as it is.”

“She wanted to be with her lover that badly. And she isn’t sad or apologetic. She has the courage to disappear into mystery and nothingness, to leap into the Abyss--hoping to be reunited with her love.”

Loki fought a cringe. “That’s horrible.”

“It’s beautiful.” Bruce laughed. “It’s romantic. Holiday had a hard life. But there’s something authentic and hopeful about her music—it’s life-affirming. It says even in misery there is beauty; even in despair there is humanity and grace.”

A wave of sickness washed through Loki. Was he hurting Bruce? “Are you miserable?”

“Are we going to add that to my list of descriptions?”

“Are you miserable because of me?”

“I’m not miserable. You challenge me, and sometimes it gets to me more than it should, but only because I…like you too much. I’m not being as objective with you as I should be.”

“So, I am making you miserable.”

Bruce hesitated, then said, “I enjoy being around you too much for you to ever make me miserable. You’re really wonderful in your own infuriating way.”

Loki turned on his side to massage Bruce’s neck some more. The faint praise made him tingle all over. He badly wanted to fuck. And he wanted more—something-- So much more. His skin felt tight. His body hummed. He wondered if he should make some sort of declaration of his feelings.

Loki’s stomach gave a long, loud growl in the silent dark. Bruce chuckled and sat up. “Yes, my prince. I’ll make you a grilled soy-cheese.”

He left, and Loki lay in the triangle of light created from the partially open bedroom door. He snuffled in despair for a moment, then gathered himself and sat up. And then something caught his eye. Sharing the triangle of light with him was Bruce’s bedside table. On the table was the zen garden. It still had Loki’s name on it.

Loki shivered deeply. Did this mean something? He blinked away tears and tried to banish his hope.

***

The next day they took a train to a campground outside the city because Bruce seemed to think it would be fun to sleep on a platform underneath a tarp out in the woods when they had a perfectly good apartment with indoor plumbing.

Despite his being a little hungover and despite his grumblings on the way there, once they were under the trees, Loki did feel his spirits lift. His spirits lifted even more when Bruce handed him a flask of scotch. Loki drank while Bruce started a fire in the fire pit. Loki could have started it with a spell, but he thought it was good for the scientist to feel useful.

Night fell, and they talked sparingly. The flames spoke more than either of them. Loki enjoyed the fire and could have slept beside it, but a rainstorm chased them into the tent.

Rain beat against the tarp and the leaves of the trees. It pelted the metal fire pit, and sank into the earth. Loki listened to the rain. Confined in a small space with the man he loved, he could not have felt more alone. An LED lantern sat between them, but it could have been a chasm yawning a mile wide and plunging to infinity.

“I know things have been kind of rough lately,” said Bruce. “But I want you to know that, the more I’ve thought about it, the more I realize how right you are about a lot of things.” His gaze fell to his feet. “I am boring, and I am pathetic, and I am miserable. I’ve become really good at lying to myself. I tell myself if I have the monster under control, then the rest takes care of itself. But what’s left over isn’t enough. It isn’t close to being enough.”

Loki felt sick. His mind was muddled, and he couldn’t think of what to say. “I’m sorry,” was the only thing that found its way past his lips.

Bruce shrugged. “Don’t be. Really. Thank you.” He took a deep breath. “That’s what tricksters do—they challenge us to reexamine our lives, our beliefs. I’m thankful you came into my life.”

“You brought me into it.” Loki couldn’t help himself.

“That’s right,” said Bruce. “I asked for it.” He looked away, as if the corner had suddenly become interesting. “Listen, Loki, I know you’re not happy here. I’ve been talking to Thor about getting your sentence reduced. I was telling him how well you’ve been doing, and he thinks it’s possible you might not see a cell at all.”

And then only the rain spoke. The lantern seemed to glow brighter as the shadows deepened. Loki’s blood hammered in his ears. “You decide,” said Loki. Offering the choice to Bruce felt right even as it made his heart clench. “I want to go wherever you want me to be.”

“I think,” Bruce said so quietly that the rain nearly drowned it out, “that you should go to Asgard and be with your family.”

Loki nodded, blinking. He had given Bruce the choice, and this was what Bruce had decided. He tried to remain stoic and busied himself with unrolling and arranging his sleeping bag. The rain died down, as if it, too, prepared for sleep. He kept the flask for company and lay down for the night. Aside from begging Bruce to leave the lantern on, he said nothing. Staring into the lantern light, he fell into a stupor.

Dreams of Asgard woke him. Rain drummed on the tarp with a marshal air. He fought his tears until they overwhelmed him. He tried to sob quietly, gasping into his pillow while his body rocked with grief.

And then Bruce was next to him rubbing his back. “Loki? Loki, what’s wrong?”

Loki tried not to say anything. Then it all came out in a torrent. “Nobody ever wants me. It’s always the same thing. My real father was ashamed of me. Odin only adopted me because of a prophecy—he never truly wanted me. He never--- He could have just—just a little—that’s all I wanted.” He sniffled. “A hint of affection. Some approval. Something. But all he ever had was criticism and nothing. Heaps and heaps of fucking nothing.” He swallowed. “And, I think somehow I always knew I was adopted. They didn’t tell me, but I knew. Thor was part of them, and I was—something else. I always felt different. I always felt wrong.”

He trembled all over. His chest heaved and then he gasped, “And now I am wrong. It’ll never let me go. I’ll never get it off of me. I can’t help it now. I can’t help it.” He couldn’t stop crying. So many years of rejection and sadness had been locked up inside him. He felt thin and friable as strings made of glass. At any moment, he was sure he would shatter.

And then his head and body were grabbed and his face was mashed into Bruce’s shoulder. He sobbed into the charcoal gray sweater, drenching it with his tears and an abundance of snot. Bruce, nothing but silence and crushing arms, held him firmly.

Finally, Loki came back to himself, his sobs subsiding, his breath returning. The lantern-lit world was turned into prisms by the tears clinging to his lashes. But even then, he and Bruce stayed entwined for a long time.

With a great sigh, Bruce released him. The scientist sat on his sleeping bag and wiped tears from his eyes. After a few minutes of silence, he said in a sincere and quiet voice, “Loki,” he said the name with the delicacy of a first kiss. “I think your father is a fucking cunt.”

Loki grinned through his tears.

Bruce smiled bitterly. “And you don’t have to be what he made you.” His dark eyes reflected the lantern light. “You can choose to let this shit go. You can be who you want to be, who makes you happy. Loki.” Another verbal kiss. “He ruined your childhood. He doesn’t have to ruin your life. I know it feels like you can’t help it, but you’re the only one who can.”

Loki nodded, touched beyond words. He tried to take what Bruce said to heart, but all he could really think about was Bruce pounding his ass through the floor.

***

They went home the next day. Because somehow Bruce hadn’t gotten enough of the outdoors, they went for a walk in Central Park. Loki had avoided the topic of his returning to Asgard. Bruce had not brought it up again, either. It sat in the pit of Loki’s stomach like a knot of serpents.

When they reached a place relatively free of people, Bruce stopped and turned to Loki. “This song keeps playing in my head when I’m with you.” He fixed earbuds in Loki’s ears. Loki braced himself for banjos.

Loki turned his attention to the ground, trying to concentrate on the song. It was ‘Simple Song,’ by the Shins. He had heard it before, but hadn’t really paid attention to the lyrics or listened to it in the context that it had anything to do with him.

His breath caught in his chest. This was a love song. A sweet one. He looked up and found Bruce staring at him. He dove into Bruce’s mouth and sucked his tongue out of his head. (Loki wasn’t into delicate first kisses—especially when he had been waiting for months.) He felt Bruce’s hands on the small of his back and in his hair. He filled his own hands with Bruce’s balls and cock. Loki felt starved. He ground his humming erection against Bruce’s and moaned into his mouth.

Bruce began laughing and pulled away slightly. “We need to go home.”

“We need to fuck,” said Loki, grinding his jaw.

Bruce pressed his lips close to Loki’s ear. “I’m not thinking of stuff we can do behind bushes. The kinds of things I want to do to you, we can’t do here.”

“Let’s go home!”

***

They began in the elevator. As the chime sounded and the doors opened, Loki had his cock so far down Bruce’s throat he thought he could feel the man’s lungs. They kissed their way to the door. As Bruce fumbled for his keys, Loki clawed off Bruce’s shirt and bit his nipple until it bled. Loki laughed as Bruce bundled him into the apartment and shoved him into the coat rack. Caught off balance, Loki fell onto the coats and jackets scattered on the floor.

Bruce joined him. He yanked Loki onto his knees. Teeth ground into the back of Loki’s neck and shook him like a dog with a rat. Loki growled happily and thrust his bare ass hard into Bruce’s chest. “Worship my hole, you zen fuckstick!”

A luxurious sigh escaped Loki’s lips as Bruce kissed and sucked his ass. Loving hands fondled his balls and cock. He sank to his elbows in utter bliss.

And then he noticed the coat beneath his hands. “Pssst. Bruce. We’re on my coat. It’s wool. It’ll have to be dry cleaned.”

Bruce laughed. “You’re such a fashion victim.”

“I look good.”

“You do.” He grabbed Loki around the waist and drug him into the living room. “You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.” And then his mouth was all over Loki’s hole. Loki closed his eyes and disappeared into the dark, knowing nothing but the warm, wet press of tongue against his sensitive, eager hole. He gave a frustrated whimper when the tongue pushed inside of him, for no matter how good it felt—and it felt amazingly good—he wanted more.

Bruce rolled him over and climbed on top of him, shoving his cock in Loki’s face. Loki licked the precum from his slit and moaned as Bruce slipped a finger inside Loki’s hole while devouring his cock. More spit and another finger joined the first. Loki slithered his tongue around Bruce’s glans, grinning to himself when Bruce, busily working Loki’s hole, groaned distractedly.

Loki felt chilled and lonely when Bruce abandoned him to find lube. But then they were together again, warm flesh against warm flesh. While Loki lay on his back, Bruce rubbed Loki’s swollen erection, kneading the glans with his thumb. Loki giggled as Bruce tentatively explored his hole. Once. Twice. So gentle. So careful. A fucking haiku. And then it rammed all the way in. Loki squealed with delight.

“Oh my god,” said Bruce.

“Right here,” breathed Loki. Bruce’s cock twitched inside him. Bruce pounded his ass across the living room. They paused to fuck slowly for a while, Bruce massaging Loki’s belly and whispering sweet things, while Loki writhed and felt too transported to form intelligent speech.

They fucked doggy style in the kitchen. Loki’s nipples gathered the cold from the tiles as his upended ass was lovingly hammered. When he could feel Bruce’s cum squirting against his walls, he came as well, spraying the kitchen floor until Bruce flipped him over and began to suck up what was left. After he had licked it off Loki’s thighs, he lapped up what had spilled on the floor, crazed as a ravening wolf.

“I think someone likes me,” said Loki.

Bruce grinned at him drunkenly. “Fuck.”

To Loki’s amusement, Bruce began sucking his cock for another round. Loki felt a little dazed. His body tingled, and his head was aswirl with ecstasy. Bruce helped him get on all fours. Loki accepted the lubed fingers that entered cool and quickly turned hot. As Bruce’s knuckles widened Loki’s hole, the stretching nearly overwhelmed him. And then the hand was all the way in, and Loki sighed. The fingers curled; Loki was full of cum and fist. Loki moaned and rocked backward as Bruce’s fist began to punch softly into his rectum. He was already slightly bruised, but the pain only intensified his enjoyment. He stretched like a cat, trying to accept the fist as deeply as possible.

Loki’s breath caught as Bruce’s fist withdrew, his hole sucking longingly after it. A second later it returned, ramming through his ass. Loki moaned and gasped as Bruce punched into his hole over and over again, dancing his viscera inside him and filling him with a lightning storm of pleasure and pain. Just when he thought he could take no more of it, Bruce began pulling on Loki’s throbbing cock. Loki came with a small cry.

This time, Bruce caught some of it. He smeared it across Loki’s lips and kissed him. The kiss was as tender as the fisting was brutal. They broke apart, and Bruce pressed his mouth against Loki’s ear. “You taste so fucking good. I’m not going to be a vegetarian anymore. I’m going to be a Lokivore. I’m going to live off your cum and hole and worship you completely.”

“I suppose you should be my high priest,” said Loki, grinning. He groaned appreciatively as Bruce began kneading the bruised ache out of his belly. “Oh, yes,” he sighed. “I hereby declare you my beloved high priest.” He laughed weakly as Bruce began sucking his cock.

“Let’s go play in the shower,” said Bruce.

***

Loki had the shower to himself for a few minutes while Bruce went to gather supplies. Loki luxuriated in the hot water. When Bruce returned, he kissed Loki gently, then bent to deposit a bottle of scotch on the floor. “If that’s for me, I can’t drink it if it’s on the floor,” Loki told him.

Bruce kissed his nose. “Patience, my sweet trickster.” He held up a metal speculum. “Downward dog, baby.”

Loki pressed his wet body against the scientist. “So if I’m the baby, does that make you my daddy?”

“Do you want me to be your daddy?”

“I need a daddy.”

Bruce smacked Loki’s ass. “I’ll be your daddy. Downward dog, baby.”

Standing just beyond the shower’s spray, Loki bent until only his ass was high in the air. The speculum’s two metal prongs, similar to a duck’s beak, slipped into his hole. He thought Bruce must have warmed the speculum in the hot water, because it didn’t seem that cold.

Slowly, the beak opened, prying Loki’s hole wider and wider. Since he had recently been fisted, Loki’s hole was already pretty stretched. Then he felt a warm liquid shoot into his body as Bruce pissed into his wide open hole. “Mmmm… I wish you had saved some of that for my face,” said Loki.

Bruce chuckled and picked up the scotch. “This might sting, baby.”

“Good,” Loki cooed. “I like a little sting.”

Bruce poured some scotch into Loki’s speculumed hole. Loki bit his lips together and trembled. It stung quite a bit. Bruce stroked Loki’s thighs and bent back. The speculum’s prongs slowly closed. Bruce removed it and sat it on the shampoo shelf. He sank to one knee and gently licked Loki’s ass. “Arise, my beautiful god.”

Loki rose gracefully as Bruce drank the fluid that spilled from his hole. Loki laughed and then Bruce caught the back of his head and fed the fluid to him as if he were a baby bird. They kissed, moving under the shower spray. Loki gasped when they pulled apart. “How did you know I would like any of this?”

Bruce smoothed wet strands of hair from off of Loki’s face. “You checked out porn sites on my tablet and didn’t clear your history.”

Loki stared into Bruce’s eyes. “I pissed on your toothbrush.”

Bruce shrugged and washed Loki’s navel.

“And I jerked off in that butternut squash soup you made last month.”

“You probably made it better.”

“And---”

Bruce held Loki’s head between his hands. “I don’t care what you’ve done in the past. I love you.”

Loki hugged him. “I’m glad.”

“Okay. We still have some work to do.”

Loki grinned as he soaped up Bruce’s chest. He realized suddenly that he had never been this happy in his life. That knowledge frightened him, for if things had gone a different way, this might have never been. “Thank you for not sending me back to Asgard,” he said in a small voice.

Bruce washed behind Loki’s ears. “I noticed that you let the decision be mine. I only said Asgard because I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“You’re all I wanted,” said Loki tearfully. Bruce hugged him tight. Loki parted Bruce’s lips with his tongue and began to quietly conquer the warm world of his mouth. As they embraced under the steaming water, Loki knew that he had finally won.

The End

  


**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Thanks to KlaatuDuLac for suggestions and to chaperoned for asking the question that inspired this story--how did Loki and Bruce get together?

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [He Has NO Idea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5942884) by [auntieomega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/auntieomega/pseuds/auntieomega), [IceNChrome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceNChrome/pseuds/IceNChrome)




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